


Just One Life

by queeniegalore



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniegalore/pseuds/queeniegalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt was a Marine. Ray wasn’t. It was that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Life

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, not true, no disrespect intended.
> 
> Originally written for YAGKYAS 2010

_30 days.  
_  
“So what do you want to do today, cocksucker?”  
  
Ray looked up at Walt from his place sprawled out on the couch. He held up the game controller in his hand, waved it about. “Xbox?”  
  
Walt rolled his eyes and sat down beside him, half-heartedly shoving him over to make room. “Seriously? It’s your first official day as a civilian and you’re going to play fucking _Tomb Raider_?”  
  
“I wanna hear Lara make those sexy little grunts when I slam her into stuff,” Ray grinned, but he let Walt take the controller away, let him climb up over his lap.  
  
“You can’t think of anything else you’d rather be doing?” Walt enquired politely, voice low and sweet in Ray’s ear. Ray raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I guess,” he started, and ran his hands up over Walt’s hips, up the smooth muscle of his sides. “I guess I could figure out what kind of noises _you_ make when I slam you into stuff.” He tried to keep his voice casual, low-key, but this whole thing with Walt was still too new, too fucking exciting. It showed, and from the look on Walt’s face, he knew he had Ray wrapped tight around his little finger. Motherfucker.  
  
“So the first thing you do after getting out of the Corps is gonna be me?” Walt’s grin was bright and dirty, and Ray’s heart beat a little faster at the sight.  
  
“Yeah. You good with that, Marine?”  
  
Walt nodded, ducked down into a hot, wet kiss. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered into Ray’s mouth. “Let’s fuckin’ go.”  
  
  
 _20 days.  
_  
Walt’s eyes were very blue in the late afternoon sunlight that was streaming in from the window above Ray’s bed. Blue and hooded, lazy with pleasure, shining in bright contrast against his flushed cheeks and his gold hair.  
  
Ray knew exactly how gay it made him, but he couldn’t help but think that Walt was just the fucking _prettiest_ thing he’d ever seen in his life. Even when he was naked on top of Ray, pushing into him in long, slow thrusts – shit, _especially_ then. Gasping and panting, murmuring soft filth into Ray’s ear – _so good, Ray, you feel so fucking good on my cock, oh God, babe, wanna make you come, need you to come for me_ – muscles straining and lined in sweat, mouth red and bitten and kissed…  
  
Yeah, Ray wasn’t gonna admit it out loud, but Walt was _so_ damn pretty like this. The most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen in his life – and yeah, _gay_. What the fuck ever. It was true.  
  
He wrapped his arms around Walt’s shoulders, pulled him close, and hooked a leg around his hips. He needed more, needed to be as close as possible, _closer_. “Come on then,” he hissed, shoving his hips up to match Walt’s thrusts. “Fuckin’ give it to me. Hard. _Fuck_ me.”  
  
Walt groaned and dropped his head to Ray’s shoulder, his whole body pushing into Ray’s whole body, his wet hair against Ray’s mouth. “Ray, Ray,” he chanted. “Ray, oh God, come on, I’m so close, come on give it up for me, _Ray_ …”  
  
Yeah, Ray was close too, close to giving _everything_ up for Walt. Anything Walt wanted in that moment he could have had, anything at all. Ray closed his eyes, lost himself in it, let himself go and then fuck, _fuck_ , he was coming, spurting hot and wet between them, blowing without even a goddamned hand on his dick. Just Walt inside him, above him, around him.  
  
It was pretty much the greatest he’d ever felt in his _life_.  
  
“You’re up, Hasser,” he said as soon as he could breathe and think again. Walt’s body was tense, muscles hard and tight as he jerked into Ray with shaky thrusts. “Gimme-”  
  
“Now,” Walt whimpered, and then he was still, holding himself deep inside Ray as his orgasm took him. “ _Ray_.”  
  
Ray stroked his hands down Walt’s back, grabbed his ass and pulled him in tighter as Walt emptied himself into Ray. He wanted to keep him there forever, keep him exactly like that, sweaty and hot and shaking, feeling so good, moaning Ray’s name.  
  
Oh, fuck.  
  
“I think I love you,” he said out loud, the words coming from nowhere. He immediately bit his tongue, mortified, because Jesus Christ, they didn’t say that kind of shit to each other. Whatever this was – and yeah, he could admit it was more than just sex, he knew that much – it wasn’t supposed to be love. It _couldn’t_ be.  
  
Except for how it totally fucking was.  
  
He held his breath, held Walt, stared at the ceiling. Walt was quiet, nothing but his harsh panting to fill the silence between them. Ray felt his stomach slowly sink, the rush of orgasm fading away. _I think I’m in love with you_? What the fuck was _that_? Yeah, good one, Person. Way to ruin fucking everything. Well done.  
  
“Ray,” Walt finally said, raising his head and resting his chin on Ray’s chest. He had a little smile on his face, just a twist to the corner of his lips. Ray wanted to kiss it, wanted to stop Walt from saying whatever he was about to. But he was frozen, staring at Walt’s face, waiting for the axe to drop.  
  
“You’re a stupid motherfucker sometimes,” Walt said softly, and Ray blinked in confusion as Walt pushed forward and kissed _him_ , gently, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled away. “We’ve been in love from the start.”  
  
Ray’s eyes went wide. “That,” he started. “That is really fucking gay, Hasser.”  
  
Walt snorted. “Is it gayer than saying ‘I think I love you’ while I’m coming in your ass?”  
  
Ray flushed. “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he muttered, shoving at Walt’s shoulders, trying to hide his face. Walt grinned properly and eased himself out of Ray, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
“I think I’m in love with you too, Ray,” he said sarcastically. “I think the clue was all the sex we’ve been having.”  
  
“Sex doesn’t always mean love,” Ray protested stupidly, as Walt tied off his condom and tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan. “I’ve had heaps of sex with people I don’t love. This could have just been emotionless fucking.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Walt nodded, still grinning. “Maybe it was the sunset walks on the beach, then. Or all the dinner and movie dates. Or the way we made out for three hours on your couch last night without even jerking each other off.”  
  
“Fuck you.” Ray flopped back against his pillows, something warm and unsure and ecstatic slowly uncurling in his chest. “How long have you – you know.”  
  
Walt stood and stretched, and even after just blowing his nut during what was quite possibly the best sex _ever_ , Ray felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his dick giving a half-hearted little twitch. Walt looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, as if he could read Ray’s mind, and bent down to snatch up his briefs.  
  
“I don’t know. It’s not like I just suddenly realised out of nowhere. I just…knew.”  
  
“You really in love with me Hasser?” But Ray didn’t need confirmation. All of a sudden it was obvious. Walt was right – they’d been in love from the start.  
  
Walt rolled his eyes. “Inexplicably, _yeah_.”  
  
“Well, shit.” Ray knew that his face was doing something stupid like _radiating joy_ or something, he could feel it, feel the happiness practically seeping from his pores. It was disgusting.   
  
He didn’t care.  
  
“Hey, we’re in love,” he called out, as Walt laughed and headed towards the bathroom. “That’s so fucking awesome, homes. We’re young, hot, badass, and we’re fucking in love.”  
  
“Yeah, okay. Settle down, Romeo.” Walt’s voice was amused. “You sound like a total retard.”  
  
Ray got up and followed Walt into the bathroom. He couldn’t get it up again yet, he’d made his peace with that, but fuck if he wasn’t gonna shower with Walt anyway. They had all night ahead of them. They could work up to it.  
  
“If we’re in love,” he said wonderingly, still amazed at the taste of the words in his mouth. “That means you have to put up with all of my shit.”  
  
Walt looked at him in exasperation. Yeah, Ray knew that expression well.  
  
“Idiot,” he said fondly. “I already do.”  
  
  
 _14 days.  
_  
“I’m being deployed.”  
  
The words dropped onto the table in front of them and sat there, heavy and ugly between them. Ray blinked and looked up at Walt, who was pale and drawn, tight lines around his eyes.  
  
“What?”  
  
Walt frowned and fiddled with a pen, twirling it between his fingers. “My platoon is being deployed. I’m going back to Iraq.”  
  
 _Fuck_. “Fuck.” Ray felt it like a blow to the back of his head, like someone had lobbed a grenade down his throat. “When?”  
  
“They’re shipping us out to Kuwait in two weeks.” Walt tossed the pen onto the table and leaned back in his chair. “We get two whole weeks notice, which is, you know, great of them.”  
  
“Fucking hell.” Ray stared down at the papers in front of him. He was sorting out his finances for college, organising a student loan. It was suddenly so supremely unimportant that he felt sick. “Fuck, Walt.”  
  
“I know.” Ray looked up at him, at the look on his face, and it was…it was so _fucking_ unfair.  
  
Walt was a Marine. Ray wasn’t. It was that simple. Ray had gotten out, Walt had stayed in, and now Ray got to go to college and live at Brad’s place while Brad fucked around in England. He got to not get shot at, got to eat pizza whenever he wanted, got to be _gay_ whenever he wanted.  
  
Walt didn’t. And deep in his heart Ray may have hated it, but he understood. Walt was a Marine, and he loved the Marines. It was a career for him, not a challenge, not a few years in between school and college like it’d been for Ray. It was a _life_.  
  
And Walt would try to hide it, but he’d be excited to be going back. Shit, Ray knew it, he’d felt it himself the first time he went to Iraq, the sick, almost gleeful anticipation. Walt would miss him, but he was happy to be going. It couldn’t be denied. Ray got it, but…they’d just figured shit out, just declared their _big, gay love_ for each other, just started to settle into what that might mean, and now Walt was being fucking taken away from him.  
  
It was so fucking fucked.  
  
“I need to go,” Ray said awkwardly. “Stay here. I just need to get out of the house for ten minutes. Don’t you fucking go anywhere.”  
  
“Don’t freak out on me,” Walt warned. “Don’t you dare.”  
  
Ray scoffed. He wasn’t going to freak out at Walt. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d wait until he was alone, then call Brad and freak out at _him_.  
  
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m going to walk up to the store and buy some beer, okay? And then I’m going to come back and drink it and let you do all the stuff I don’t let you do sober.”  
  
Walt raised his eyebrows dubiously. “What the _fuck_ haven’t you let me do?”  
  
Ray stood up, grabbed his wallet. “You’re going to be fucking deployed, Walt. We’ll think of something.”  
  
  
 _12 days.  
_  
Walt walked into the living room in his sweats and Ray’s USMC hoodie, two bowls of ice cream in his hands. Ray looked up at him from the couch and felt himself pout. It was fucking ridiculous.  
  
“You can’t go to Iraq,” he said. “There is no ice cream in, like, the entire Middle East. You know you turn into a little bitch without your Hagen Daaz.”  
  
“Ray.” Walt handed him a bowl and sat down, close enough for their thighs to press together. They’d been touching a lot more than usual, and it didn’t take a damned genius to figure out why. They couldn’t show affection in front of anyone they knew, weren’t going to have each other at _all_ soon enough. They were getting it while they still could.  
  
It was depressing, and it left a smear of sadness over their relationship that Ray was having trouble seeing past.   
  
He poked at his ice cream. “Maybe you could freeze one of those MRE milkshakes,” he offered. “That’d work.”  
  
“That sounds fucking disgusting,” Walt said gently, and Ray rolled his eyes. He didn’t want Walt to treat him gently. He didn’t want to be acting like such a pansy. It just…kind of came out.  
  
“Come here,” he said, and he put his and Walt’s bowls on the floor. He pulled Walt half onto his lap, kissed him hard and rough. “I’m not freaking out,” he promised. “It may seem that way to an impartial observer, but I’m fucking not.”  
  
“Okay,” said Walt easily. “That’s good.” He put his hands on either side of Ray’s face, kissed him back very softly, taking the wind out of Ray’s sails a little. “You’ll be fine, Ray.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. I’m not the one who’s shipping out to be fucking blown up and shot at. All I have to worry about is not letting Colbert’s plants die.”  
  
Walt looked him in the eye. “I’m not going to get shot or blown up,” he said. “I’m so fuckin’ awesome out there. No one can touch me.”  
  
Ray snorted, and buried his face in Walt’s chest. “I should be going with you,” he said, his voice muffled against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”  
  
Walt sighed, and Ray winced. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Knew he was making it harder for the both of them. “Ray, shut the fuck up,” Walt whispered, stroking his hair. Ray nodded.  
  
“Walt. Walt, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be.” Walt kept stroking his hair, and Ray knew how ridiculous it was that the one who was going off to war was comforting the one who got to stay safe in California, but. He was willing to go with it, just for a while.  
  
He pulled them both sideways on the couch and hooked himself around Walt like they were grappling, holding him tight. “Our ice cream is melting,” Walt said, looking longingly at the bowls.   
  
Ray frowned. “Fuck you. You think your ice cream is more important than us having a goddamn _moment_? The liberal media is right about you jarheads all being emotionless, baby-killing assholes.”  
  
“Shut the fuck _up_ ,” Walt said again, but he relaxed, melting into Ray’s arms. Ray kissed the side of his face, the top of his cheekbone, his left eyelid, touched the nape of his neck and the small of his back. Tried to memorize the feel of him, the taste.  
  
Tried to find a way to store it somewhere inside himself until Walt left and came back and was in the exact same position again – safe.  
  
  
 _11 days.  
_  
Ray woke on the couch just after midnight. Their ice cream had melted, and he carefully transported the bowls to the kitchen before coming back and looking at Walt’s sleeping face, studying him in the dim glow of the television.  
  
So fucking pretty.  
  
He knelt down in front of the couch and carefully, gently, pushed Walt onto his back without waking him and slowly pulled down his sweats. Walt was going commando, thank fuck, and it was easy for Ray to lean in and lick a long, hot swipe up his soft dick, wrap his mouth around it and suck it down.  
  
“Ray? Jesus, Ray, what-”  
  
Ray held Walt down as he woke up, pushed his forearm over his hips and kept sucking, loving the feel of Walt’s cock growing in his mouth, getting hard and thick, pushing against the back of his throat. He moaned, sucked messy and hard, and Walt was groaning above him, fingers digging into the couch cushions as he tried to control himself.  
  
Ray didn’t want him controlled.  
  
He grabbed one of Walt’s hands and put it on the back of his own head, held it there for a second until Walt got the idea. “Oh, God, Ray,” Walt breathed, trying to get a grip on Ray’s short hair. “You’re a kinky motherfucker sometimes.”  
  
Ray tried to pull off to say something to that, but Walt’s hand shoved him back down, hard, made Ray choke a little on his cock. “Stay there,” Walt said, and his voice was still soft from sleep and foggy with lust. “Stay right there on my cock, Ray. Come on, suck it down. Yeah, you fucking love it. Show me how much you love it.”  
  
Ray moaned again, so fucking hard it hurt, and held his breath as he let Walt fuck his throat, let Walt take what he wanted from Ray’s mouth. It was so good, the hot taste of Walt’s dick, the feeling of being owned, of owning. They were at each other’s mercy, Ray held down hard and choking, Walt so overcome with pleasure he couldn’t have moved if he tried.  
  
It was fucking amazing. Too amazing to last.  
  
Before long, Walt’s thrusts became erratic, the hand on Ray’s head shaking and flexing. He liked to talk dirty in bed. It had been one of Ray’s favourite things to learn about him, and he opened his mouth now, telling Ray how much he loved it, how good he looked with cock in his mouth, how he was gonna swallow Walt’s come and fucking like it. Yeah, Ray didn’t need to be told that. He was drooling for it, and fuck, when Walt finally lost it, spurting thick and hot on Ray’s tongue, Ray sucked it down eagerly, desperate for the taste of that, too.  
  
Walt slumped back on the couch panting when he was done, and for half a second Ray thought he was gonna fall back asleep like an asshole, but then he was leaning up, pulling Ray up to straddle him.  
  
“Jerk off on me,” he said, pulling up his hoodie and tensing his stomach, smooth, hard abs rippling in the soft light. “All yours, babe.”  
  
“You watch too much porn,” Ray told him, his voice scratchy and raw and fucked out. He started stroking himself, eyes on Walt’s wet dick, the spit and come glistening on his thighs and stomach. It was filthy, but so fucking sexy he almost couldn’t take it. “I still can’t believe you call me _babe_ in bed.”  
  
“Shut up and gimme your come,” Walt smiled, and yeah, he did watch too much porn, but it fucking _worked_. Ray groaned and jerked off hard and quick, he could still taste the sharp flavour of Walt’s jizz in his mouth and he was licking it off his lips as he blew, coating Walt in it, and oh, fuck if Walt wasn’t trailing his fingers through the mess, rubbing it in.   
  
Ray fell back on his heels and shook his head. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss that.”  
  
Walt brought a finger up to his mouth, sucked Ray’s come off it. “Mmm,” he agreed, then grinned. “But I guess I’ve got my combat jacks sorted out.”  
  
Ray just laughed and hauled him up, pushing him towards the bathroom and the bed.  
  
  
 _9 days.  
_  
“Do you think we can do this?”  
  
Walt was sitting at the breakfast table, pale in the soft pre-dawn light, eyes dark and drawn.  
  
Ray sat down opposite him, clutching at his coffee like a lifeline. “Do what?”  
  
Walt shrugged, wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You know. _This_. Still be together, still be…whatever we are while I’m gone.” He fiddled with the sugar bowl, licked his finger to pick up some grains, sprinkled them into his coffee. “I mean, I’d understand it if…” He trailed off, still not looking at Ray.  
  
Ray felt his face grow hot, indignation rolling in his stomach. “Understand what, motherfucker?” he asked, glaring across the table. “Understand – are you fucking breaking up with me? Like some pussy fucking goddamned _bitch_?”  
  
Walt looked up, chewed on his lip. “It’s not fair on you. I’m gonna be gone for a long time, Ray.”  
  
Ray jumped out of his seat and pointed at Walt, furious. “No, wait. Are you breaking up with me at fucking five in the _morning_? Are you breaking up with me a week before you’re going to go and get your fucking ass shot off by a bunch of fucking hajis in the desert without me? You total asshole!”  
  
“Ray.” Walt shook his head. “Ray, I…wait. Wait. What the fuck does it matter what time of day it is?”  
  
“It’s five in the morning! I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee! How am I meant to deal with this shit? You suck, Hasser.”  
  
Walt’s lips twitched, at that, like he was trying to hide a smile, and Ray sank back down into his seat, fury evaporated like it had never existed. “You’re so dumb,” he sighed. “You’re such a dumb, blond _hick_. We’re not breaking up.”  
  
“We’re not?” Walt looked almost hopeful, and Ray rolled his eyes.   
  
“I get it, dude. You’re all emo and shit because you stayed up late the other night reading Brad’s sister’s Nicholas Sparks novels. It’s cool, you feel like you have to be noble or something, right? But fuck you, we’re not breaking up. As if we would.”  
  
“Oh.” Walt sipped at his coffee, looked faintly embarrassed. “I wasn’t reading any Nicholas Sparks novels, douchebag.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever gets you through the day, dickhead.”   
  
Walt smiled at him, reached his hand across the table. Ray rolled his eyes, but he grabbed Walt’s fingers and gave them a squeeze. “You think you can ditch my ass just so you can go have combat jacks with Lilley in Iraq? Please. That pretty boy ain’t got shit on me.”  
  
“Yeah, all right, Ray,” Walt said softly, and he squeezed back. “It’s all right.”  
  
Ray closed his eyes for just a second. For a moment there his heart had almost stopped. For a moment, everything had threatened to fall down around him. He couldn’t handle that shit.  
  
“Okay,” he said, opened his eyes and smiled back. “Pass the chicory, bitch.”  
  
  
 _7 days.  
_  
A week before Walt was due to ship out, he started to look worried.  
  
It wasn’t that he was scared of dying – shit, Walt was a fucking badass Marine, he was good at his job, loved a fight, loved fucking shit up. It was something else, something deeper, and Ray couldn’t figure it out.  
  
They went to a farewell dinner with some friends, old Marine buddies and some new guys from Walt’s platoon, guys Ray didn’t know and didn’t know if he could trust. But he played along, laughed and teased Walt, made sure not to spend too much time with him, not to give anything away. They didn’t touch all night, hardly looked at each other, and it sucked, but they were used to it. As used to it as they could be, anyway.  
  
Later, it turned out that that wasn’t as much as Ray had thought.  
  
“If I get shot,” Walt said out of the blue in Ray’s bed that night, just after Ray had switched out the lamp and settled down to sleep. “If I get shot or blown up out there, I’m telling them about us.”  
  
Ray sat bolt upright, and stared at Walt’s shadowy face in the dark. “ _What_?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it,” Walt said. “If I’m dying, I want everyone to know.”  
  
Ray switched the light back on, feeling sick to his stomach. His fucking hands were shaking, and Walt was just lying there serene as anything, looking at him with clear blue eyes.   
  
“Motherfucker, that is the most depressing thing you’ve ever said to me,” Ray said weakly. “Why would you…”  
  
Walt shrugged and sat up too, leaning back against the pillows. “I just think, you know. If I’ve been shot and everyone’s screaming and Doc’s there yelling at me to stop bleeding, I’m gonna say it. Because if I die, no one will know. You wouldn’t be able to tell. It’d be like we never happened. The Marines will never fucking know and it would be so messed up.”  
  
Ray felt tears gathering behind his eyelids and hated himself for it. He _didn’t cry_. Well, okay, he did cry sometimes, like when Mufasa died in the _Lion King_ and when Brad gave him the keys to his house before jetting off to get ass-fucked in the Royal Marines, but those were exceptions. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want to break down in front of Walt.  
  
“ _You’re_ messed up,” he said, looking away. “Why are you even saying this?”  
  
“Because I’m _sick_ of it,” Walt said with heat. “I’m sick of hiding. At least this way I know there’s an _escape_. I know that if worst comes to worst people will _know_.”  
  
Ray stared into his lap, watched a few tears make dots on the bedspread. His back was to Walt, Walt wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t know how this conversation was fucking making Ray feel shit he never wanted to feel, making him hurt worse than he thought he knew how.  
  
“You’re the one who re-enlisted, asshole,” he said cruelly, wondering why he was saying it even as the words left his mouth. “We wouldn’t have to be hiding if you’d gotten out with me.”  
  
Walt didn’t answer. Ray wished he could take the words back, but he was too stubborn to say anything. They stayed in silence for a while, not touching, not even looking at each other. Ray wanted to grab him, tie him up and not let him go. Failing that, he wanted to hide in Walt’s bag and go with him.   
  
Yeah, that was the crux of it. It wasn’t that Walt was going back; it was that Walt was going back without Ray. It was guilt that was fucking him up so bad, the need to be out there with his friends, out there with _Walt_ , not stuck in Cali being a dick-sucking engineering student, drinking fucking lattes in the library café and not worrying about anything scarier than a late goddamn paper. It was killing him, letting Walt go alone. Killing him to be left behind.  
  
“What if I re-upped,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “I could. I could re-enlist.”  
  
Walt drew a sharp breath. “ If you re-up,” he said softly, “I _will_ fuck leave you.” I’ll leave you and never speak to you again.”  
  
Ray turned to look at him, shocked, feeling like he’d been punched in the face. Walt was ashy, eyes very wide and mouth set, and Ray knew that there would be no changing his mind. Not a fucking chance.  
  
“Walt…”  
  
“I’m a Marine,” Walt interrupted. “I’m gonna hate it sometimes, and I think DADT is a fucked up piece of shit rule, same as you, but I’m a Marine, Ray. You’re not.”  
  
“You think I’m not good enough?” Ray asked stupidly. Walt just shook his head.  
  
“No, motherfucker,” he said, and he touched Ray’s hand. “You’re way _too_ fucking good.”  
  
A tear slipped free of Ray’s right eye and slid down his cheek. Walt reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. “The thought of you being here waiting for me, living a normal life, doing something with yourself that doesn’t include killing and maiming people for a living? That’s gonna see me through this. That’s what’s gonna get me home. You understand that?”  
  
Ray smiled, pressed into Walt’s hand. “You saying I’m gonna be your Susie Rottencrotch?”   
  
Walt rolled his eyes. “No. I’m saying you’re gonna be my Marine wife. You should probably just learn to deal with it.”  
  
Ray laughed and pressed forward into a kiss. He still felt fucked up, still felt like Walt was fucked up, but he supposed that yeah, he could learn to deal with it.  
  
He let Walt be the big spoon that night and didn’t even complain about feeling like a bitch. And when he fucked Walt at five in the morning before Walt had to get up to be on base, he kissed him hard and tried to say, without saying it at all, how much Walt meant to him, how he’d be his fucking bitch forever if that’s what he needed, whatever that meant.   
  
Whatever Walt needed him to be, that’s what he’d be.  
  
  
 _3 days.  
_  
“Bruise me.”  
  
Oh, God.  
  
Walt’s eyes were closed as Ray laid him out on his bed, his eyes were closed and his mouth was slack, open. Ray pushed him back, leaned over him, drew his wrists over his head and pressed them down into the pillow. Walt was flushed, stark slashes of color high up on his cheekbones, and he moaned the words again, insistently.  
  
“ _Bruise_ me. Come on, Ray.”  
  
Ray watched him, the strong, hard muscle of him, smooth under his tan skin. Watched the way his lashes fluttered but stayed lowered, like Walt couldn’t ask for this without hiding a little. He was too much to comprehend, Ray felt like he was reaching breaking point just looking at him.  
  
He couldn’t believe he was about to _lose_ him.  
  
“What.” He licked his lips, felt his breath come short. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
Walt squeezed his eyes shut hard for a second, then opened them. The blue was startling in the dim light, shining up at Ray. “I want to feel you on me,” Walt said softly. “When I’m gone, I want to feel where you touched me.”  
  
“Oh, Christ, Walt.” Ray dropped his head to Walt’s chest, arms still stretched out above them. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”  
  
He felt Walt laugh silently, a hitch in his chest that could just as easily have been a sob or a gasp. He looked back up, digging his chin into Walt’s clavicle, trying to study his face. “You serious?”  
  
“Yeah.” Walt chewed on his bottom lip. “Bruise me up, Ray, so I can feel you on me in the desert. Wanna touch your marks when I’m jerkin’ off. It’ll be like you’re fucking there with me.”  
  
Too much to comprehend. Ray pushed up to his knees, holding Walt’s wrists harder, not being gentle about the way his thumbs dug into Walt’s bones. They locked gazes, something hot and desperate building, something without words. It was like sparks flying, white-hot shrapnel exploding between them, and then Walt writhed under him, tried to get some friction and something tight in Ray’s chest just snapped.  
  
Anything Walt wanted. Anything at all.  
  
He flipped Walt easily, caught him off guard and just hauled him over, kneed his thighs apart. Walt flexed his arms, muscles in his back rippling as he tested Ray’s new grip on his wrists. Without even really thinking about it, Ray leaned in and sucked a kiss into the top of Walt’s shoulder, tasting at the salt of his skin before clamping his teeth down, biting hard enough to make Walt jerk underneath him, breath catching in his throat.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, _fuck_ Ray. Fuck me, fuck me, come on, _please_.”  
  
Ray didn’t need to be asked twice.  
  
Later – Ray wasn’t sure how much later, maybe hours, he kind of felt like they’d been fucking for _days_ – Ray had pressed bruises into Walt’s skin in a dozen different places, thumb-prints, bite-marks, some just more of those hot, sucking kisses. Enough that Walt would get what he needed, the chance to feel Ray with him for those extra days, couple of weeks, until they faded away along with everything else and became just a memory.  
  
Ray wanted that too, wanted something to hold onto while Walt was gone, but he thought maybe this would be enough, this right here, the way Walt was looking at him, begging him, opening himself up so completely. He tried to imprint it on his brain, wanted to see it every time he closed his eyes. Wanted to make a memory so strong it’d be like a scar, something visceral, something Ray could touch.  
  
“Don’t ever wanna stop this.” Walt’s voice was slow and thick, heavy with pleasure. “This is so fuckin’ good.”  
  
Ray had them both on their sides, now, knew they were heading into the last stretch. They were sweat-slick, slipping together, Ray’s lips pressed to the back of Walt’s neck as he pushed inside him, so deep.   
  
“You like that?” Ray didn’t need to ask, he could feel Walt getting closer, tipping towards the edge as he thrust forward into Ray’s fist. “Walt?”  
  
“You fuckin’ know I do.” Walt twisted his head back, caught Ray’s mouth in a fierce, wet kiss. Ray gave himself up to it, to the overwhelming feeling of Walt all around him, and when he came it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, like his heart was breaking and being replaced by the way Walt whispered his name.  
  
  
 _1 day.  
_  
Ray wasn’t going to base with Walt to see him off. It would have looked too weird – the other Marines knew they were buddies, yeah, but there were lines they didn’t want to cross. Ray getting all weepy as he waved Walt onto the buses would have been _kind_ of a give-away.  
  
In a way, though, Ray was glad. He loved Walt in uniform, out of uniform, whatever, but he wanted his last memory to be Walt easy in his jeans and T-shirt, leaning against Ray’s kitchen counter as they kissed a long, lazy goodbye. That was gonna stay with him, not Walt hauling his ruck onto his shoulder, straightening his cap and moving out. It was better this way.  
  
“Jesus, Ray, I’m not _dying_ ,” Walt said, mouth quirking into a smile, as Ray explained his theory. “Probably.”  
  
They looked at each other for a second, and Ray rolled his eyes. “Lame, Hasser. I’m not even going to fucking bite, okay. You can try to toy with my emotions like that, fine, but it’s not going to work. Living in the Iceman’s lair is starting to rub off on me. I am cool as a motherfucking cucumber. You wanna go play with your guns in that giant goddamn litter tray? What the fuck ever.”  
  
Walt just kept smiling, laughter in his eyes.  
  
Ray frowned. “What are you so happy about?”  
  
“I dunno,” Walt said, shrugging. “You, I guess. You’re so messed up.”  
  
“You’re worse,” Ray shot back, trying to keep it light, but his heart wasn’t in it. Walt was heading back to his place soon, had to leave early the next day, and this was pretty much it. Seven months before they’d see each other again, and even that was only _probably_.  
  
Nothing to be done about it. Walt was a Marine, and Ray understood better than anyone what that meant. He was done with acting like a bitch; it was hard, but so was everything. He was gonna deal with it, gonna make it work.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about me, homes,” he said, hooking a thumb into Walt’s belt-loop. “I’ve got it all under control. All you have to worry about is coming back.”  
  
Walt reached out for him, wrapped his fingers loosely around Ray’s wrist and nodded. “Of course I’m coming back. You’re here.”  
  
Ray looked away, looked down at their hands. He could see the bruises he’d left on Walt, dark smudges against his skin, and for some reason they made him feel better. Walt was going to carry his marks into war. It was kind of intense.  
  
“I’m not gonna back down from this,” he said out of nowhere. He looked back up into Walt’s face, into his eyes, tried to get across how serious he was. “Whatever we’ve got, it means something. I’m gonna see it through…and _fuck_ , this is so fucking gay.” He broke off, grinned a little, embarrassed. He wasn’t afraid of words, normally, but he wasn’t built for this, didn’t know how to say goodbye and make it mean something.  
  
Walt squeezed his wrist. “No, I know,” he said, and Ray knew he did, knew words weren’t even necessary. They understood each other, always. “I’m not backing down either.”   
  
“Good.” Ray could feel tears threatening, but he held them back, made himself keep them locked up. He put his free hand on the back of Walt’s neck, drew him in to one last kiss. It was long and sweet, a soft press of lips, a promise.  
  
“You’re gonna kick ass, dude,” Ray whispered when they eventually broke apart. He studied Walt’s face, the wide high cheekbones, the long lashes, the sharp angle of his jaw. Those blue, blue eyes. It wasn’t enough, nowhere near, but Ray drew up every ounce of strength in his body and said the only thing left to say.   
  
“Ooh-rah, motherfucker.” He whispered it against Walt’s lips, and he felt Walt smile as he whispered it back, strong and sure.   
  
“Ooh-fuckin’-rah.”  
  
It wasn’t until Walt was driving away that Ray let it come. He sank down against the door and let the tears run their course. He let himself have that, that one moment, let himself feel it all at full force until he couldn’t feel it anymore.  
  
And then he got himself the fuck up, wiped his eyes, and set about living through the next seven months.  
  
  
 _220 days.  
_  
One day at a time.  
  
  
 _1 day.  
_  
Until Walt walked back in through Ray’s front door.


End file.
